There are five stages of grieving. The first being denial, or isolation.
She had had the intention of running to the district borders. When he had found her, she had been pretty damn close to achieving it. Her hair was full of sand, her palms bloodied from digging her nails into them, and her throat raw from screaming. She hadn't made a sound when he scooped her into his arms and carried her all the way back to his house.
She hadn't made a noise at all, save a wince when he cleaned the wounds on her hands. And when he had laid her down to put her to sleep, she didn't close her eyes.
Each day passed by without her making any kind of sound. She stayed curled up in bed with the curtains closed, moving only when necessity called for it. Each day brought on darker circles under her eyes.
Finnick sat at the kitchen with his head in his hands, mind racing at what he could do to break through to her. It was like she didn't see anyone. He felt a presence behind him and knew without looking up that it was Mags. The old woman had had yet another minor stroke, and he didn't feel confident in leaving her in a giant house all on her own. She didn't seem to miss it, anyway.
She smoothed down the hair that curled around the nape of his neck and leaned down to press a kiss to the back of his head.
"Has she said anything?" Finnick asked, lifting his head to watch Mags rummage around in the pantry.
The old woman shook her head and set an aluminum tin on the counter.
"What's that?" He inquired, standing up when she beckoned to him and pointed to the cabinet above her. He opened it and pulled down a mug, setting it beside the tin and taking the kettle she gave to him to fill. "Tea?"
Mags smiled at him and she closed her eyes and rested her cheek on the back of her hand, miming sleep.
Finnick raised his brows and nodded. "Good idea." He set the kettle on the burner and sighed, raking a hand through his hair. "I'm gonna check on her." He stooped down to kiss the top of her head before exiting the kitchen and going to the room at the end of the hall.
"Rini?" He asked, knocking quietly. He pushed the door open and found her sitting up in bed, the curtains pulled open to let in the night air. He found himself at a loss for words, seeing the moonlight on her nearly translucent skin. "A-are you okay?" He blurted, immediately feeling idiotic.
Renata turned her head to look at him, her eyes a dull blue. She watched him as he walked over to her bedside and slowly lowered himself into a sitting position on the mattress. She looked terrible. Her hair frizzed everywhere and was matted from her constant tossing and turning.
"Are you hungry?" He tried a different question.
"No, I'm fine," She replied and he nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of her voice. It had been a while since he'd heard it.
His heart sped its beat and he wiped his hands on his pants nervously. "Are you tired?"
She laughed, her voice thin. "Obviously. Have you seen me lately?"
"Are you afraid you'll have nightmares if you sleep?"
Rini shook her head and she looked back out the window, closing her eyes. "I'm not afraid. I'm already living a nightmare, aren't I? To sleep would be…a welcome distraction."
"Rini," He started and then looked up when Mags appeared in the doorway, a steaming cup in her hands. He got up and offered to take the cup, stepping aside when she shook her head. The old woman shuffled to Rini's side and smiled at her, holding out the cup. She nodded in encouragement for her to drink, brushing her red hair off her shoulder.
The young woman took a pull at the tea and stuck out her tongue when she swallowed, her brows furrowed.
Mags only cackled and pushed the mug back up to her lips for another swig. Only when Renata had drained the whole thing did she accept the empty mug. She handed it off to Finnick and gently pushed Rini down by her shoulders, motioning for Finnick to close the curtains.
"Sleep now," the old woman whispered, reaching out to hold Finnick's arm. "No dreams."
"Thanks," Rini mumbled, turning onto her side. Her tired eyelids finally drooped until they shut and she let out a long sigh, all the tension disappearing from her face.
Finnick felt the overwhelming urge to stay by her side, to smooth her hair until she was all better, but Mags nudged him to lead her out. "Where'd you get that, Mags?" He asked her, watching her replace the tin in the pantry.
She brought another cup over to him from the counter and set it in front of him, nodding at him to drink.
A wave of familiarity washed over him as he brought the cup up to his mouth. He had practically lived on this stuff after he'd started making extra visits to the Capitol. His mother had been slaughtered on his front lawn, and he didn't think he would have anyone to come back to. Mags had been waiting for him at the train station, her arms open for him. She'd stayed with him even when he hadn't made it easy on her. Between lashing out in fury and breaking down in sobs, he didn't sleep. A heavy regiment of her tea seemed to do the trick.
Already he could feel the effect of the tea and he stood up, enveloping the old woman in a hug. "Thank you," he murmured against her hair. After seeing her to her own bed, he trudged down the hallway to the stairs. "Too far," He mumbled and instead laid down on the couch, where the tea took full effect on him, and he fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
At least the dark circles were gone.
Finnick swallowed as he watched Renata sit motionless at the dinner table, the only time he ever saw her out of her room. Her hands cupped a mug of tea and she watched the steam rise without blinking. She looked a hair better, but only just. She rarely spoke, and took to locking herself in her room. Had he been the same way after his mother's death? Had he not spoken for a week at a time or barely eaten?
It was hard to believe that she was the same girl he'd mentored. Even after the games, after Seneca trapping her into a marriage, she had still been herself. This hollow, fragile ghost that sat across from him was a stranger.
"Why are you staring at me?"
Finnick blinked and he saw that Rini was looking at him, those eyes never ceasing to make him feel like he was suddenly very small. "I'm thinking of what to say to you," he replied sheepishly. Might as well be honest. What was he supposed to say to the girl he loved desperately who was grieving over her dead foster father?
"Come up with anything yet?" She sipped at her tea and only her mouth twitched with her distaste for it.
"I miss you."
She blinked in surprise and looked at him for a moment, her eyebrows knit. There was a flash of longing that came over her face and she covered it quickly. She slowly pushed her chair back and left the kitchen, her footsteps quiet as she went to her room.
Finnick jumped up when he heard her door close and he went to it, knocking. "Rini, please," He swallowed. "I know you want to be alone. I know you don't want to face this." He stopped, listening for any sign of her. "I know that it feels like the end of the world, I…I've been there, too. It's hard to have courage to face it, to live, to go on with your own life. I'm not trying to tell you it's okay, because it isn't."
Her door opened a crack and he looked down into her teary eyes, gripping the door frame tightly so he wouldn't burst in and hold her against her will.
"You told me that you wanted to become whole without me, and I respect that," he continued in a whisper. "But you don't have to cut me out completely. You don't have to face it alone. I'm right here."
"I don't want them to hurt you," Renata whispered through the small space. "Everyone I love gets hurt because of me. All my fault," she added very quietly, to herself. Like she was reminding herself.
"I'm not expendable."
"Not yet," She shook her head.
How he wished she would just throw the door open and let him take some of her grief away. Or just endure it with her, anything but leave her alone. "Let me in, Renata."
"I will if you tell me that this ends," Renata whispered. "Tell me I'll stop feeling like this."
Finnick swallowed and he stayed silent, searching her eyes for whatever she was getting at. He couldn't tell her that truthfully. And she knew that.
"Well? Go on, then," she whispered, a tear running down her cheek. "Lie to me, Finnick."
He felt his heart break at the pain in her eyes and he shook his head. "I can't," he whispered. "I can't do that, Rini. I'm sorry."
"I know," she shook her head and closed the door, the lock clicking a moment.
Finnick rested his forehead against the door and he closed his eyes. He could break down the door if he wanted to. A lock couldn't keep him out. He gripped the door frame tighter, feeling his arms tremble.
She needed space. She needed time. Time healed all wounds, right?
He stood upright and very gently placed his palm on the door that separated them. "I'm so sorry," he whispered and walked away.
Surprise, bitches! I bet you thought you'd seen the last of me!
kjfsdk Sorry, couldn't resist. I couldn't stand taking an extended break between stories, so haaaa here I am! Already we're seeing a different Rini than the first two. She's hurting, and confused, and still trying to rely on herself to pick herself up. I've got so so much planned still for Rini and Finnick and I'm so excited for you to read! I also think instead of separating Catching Fire and Mockingjay, this story is going to include the events from both.
I hope you enjoyed this first chapter, if you would pleeease let me know what you thought about it, favorite, and follow ;)
And if you're looking for more good reads, check out Cosette Everdeen's A Slow Hurt and Heart of Stone! And for another wonderful Finnick/OC series, check out Maddie Rose's Dig Up The Bones and Leave The Soul Alone! Wow, such talented lovelies!
If I don't update by Christmas, hope you all have a lovely one!
-Kelsey x